


Theory of Helplessness

by Anonymous



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (skippable if you prefer), Alternate Universe - Royalty, And there was only one Tent, Background IwaOi - Freeform, First Meetings, Fluff, Getting Together, Humor, Idiots, Idiots in Love, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Mutual Pining, because they talk about bread too much idk how this happened, kitchen boy Kageyama, obligatory bread tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-11 23:48:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29125983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Shouyou is addicted to a very specific rush. It’s the kind of elation he would feel as a child on his forest excursions, after climbing to the highest branch. The wind tangled its fingers into his hair and cooled the sweat from his cheeks in steady caresses—its freedom stirred a precarious restlessness within his chest.It’s that feeling he has thought of every single day since his parents put an end to his little trips—since he truly became ‘Prince Shouyou’, then later a king.And unexpectedly, he reaches a level all too similar to that childish elation the first time his arrow hits its mark.The first time Shouyou sees Kageyama smile.~In which, Hinata is an overworked king and Kageyama is a kitchen boy and reluctant archery teacher.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 32
Kudos: 87
Collections: Kagehina Exchange





	1. Hiraeth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rinpanna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rinpanna/gifts).



> This....ended up being a lot longer than I intended buuuuut oh well. Writing it was super fun and I really, really hope you enjoy it! :D
> 
> Prompt: royalty au. prince hinata and server boy kageyama. kazuyo is one of hinata's close advisors. kageyama is really good at archery and hinata wants to get better, so kazuyo suggests he asks tobio for help. its chaos at first, but they fall in love <3

There are two halves of a person’s most basic self—wants and needs—Hinata Shouyou is missing one of those pieces. Shouyou has no desire for anything, be it material or emotional, because that’s the way everyone else needs it to be.

Shouyou doesn’t want to learn swordplay, he does so out of essential need.

Shouyou does not want to be a good king, he _needs_ to be.

He is still one whole, replacing fragments and filling in the gaps with mortar. The shards create a mismatched mosaic that gleams in every shift of light.

A vague portion of his rationale acknowledges the flaws in such a line of thought. He’s a cracked foundation drowning in an endless sea of mud and instability—but it is upon this cracked stone he’s built his routines and, by proxy, his entire kingdom. Though the implications of such should strike him with fear, Shouyou finds it easy to shrug off. If or when the barrier between longing and necessity crumbles, he will handle it then.

For now, Shouyou hones in on his most recent venture in becoming the well accomplished king he should be: learning archery.

So Shouyou travels down the hallways of slickly embossed marble. The polished stone and untarnished grout paving his way as he seeks out the most reliable source he can think of.

“Hinata-sama?”

Shouyou whips around quickly enough for his neck to groan with protest. A grin effortlessly slides into place regardless—as it typically does. “Kazuyo-san! I was just looking for you.”

Kazuyo pauses as Shouyou bounds over with enthusiasm sparking at his heels.

The returning smile is equal parts gentle and perceptive. Wrinkled indents make permanent residence next to his closed eyes—Shouyou thinks this is his most endearing quality, not to mention it makes him feel like he’s talking to an ancient wizard. He’s wise, and elegant, but…he certainly has some tricks up his sleeve too. There are plenty of childhood (and current) memories that prove these facts.

Out of habit, Shouyou reaches for Kazuyo when he’s near enough. It seems rather childish, in hindsight, and not exactly ‘kingly behavior.’ Lucky for Shouyou, the advisor doesn’t share those thoughts and obliges him immediately, wrapping him in a warm familiar hug with a chuckle. “How are you today?”

“The usual. Always busy, but never boring! How about you?” Shouyou squeezes tighter for a moment.

Kazuyo laughs again, doesn’t let go. “I’m quite alright. Now, what can I do for you today, King?”

“Oh!” Shouyou steps out of the embrace, though keeps hold of the older man’s calloused hands. “I need to learn archery so I’ve been trying to read and research, but studying is already difficult, and I couldn’t focus long enough to learn anything substantial. So, then I tried to go to the guards but Tanaka said he didn’t know much about archery and Noya is away right now. The rest treat me as if I’m glass or something. Anyways! Then I realized that I was being stupid and I could ask you about it instead. Because I heard that you were, like, really good at it at some point—which is so cool! You’re amazing, Kazuyo-san!”

Kazuyo nods along as he speaks, very attentive in his listening. He’s always like that—Shouyou is very lucky. After Shouyou is finished, the advisor ponders for a silent beat. “Well, I was alright when I was younger, but I can’t imagine I’d be of much use now.”

Shouyou’s gut sinks with the weight of his drooping heart. “You’re always useful to me.”

“Hm,” Kazuyo hums thoughtfully. Within seconds, a new light shines within his grey eyes. An idea—something genius and possibly slightly crazy—has visibly taken root. Shouyou bites his lip to keep from bouncing on his toes. “There is someone I know.”

Shouyou almost shouts with glee.

“He’s a kitchen boy here in this castle. Tall, dark hair, very intimidating, hard to miss. He’s not exactly a teacher but I swear you could not be in more talented hands. That boy has an eye as sharp as his tongue.” Kazuyo releases Shouyou’s hands to ruffle his orange mop. “You should go and ask him yourself tomorrow.”

Shouyou doesn’t prevent himself from bouncing this time. Energy springs through every particle in his body like a jackrabbit who drank someone’s morning brew. “Yes! Thank you so much, Kazuyo-san!”

“Any time, my king.” He adjusts his spotless clothes and tweaks his perfectly placed pendant. “I have other things to attend to, but I will inform Yachi of the lessons that will need to fit into your schedule.”

“I won’t let you down!”

“You never have.” Kazuyo manages one last pat to Shouyou’s head before he slips past him and disappears down the hall.

The liveliness pumping through his chest makes him lightheaded. He allows himself a small whoop and jump, since no one is actively watching him. The cloudiness carries him all the way to his office. But with the jolting _bang_ of the oak doors behind him, comes an equally sobering thought.

 _She is going to_ ** _kill_** _me._

* * *

An extremely wrinkled and ink blotched sheet of paper shoves its way into Shouyou’s line of vision. One narrowed eye pops out from behind the page, pale eyebrow ticking. “Here’s your new schedule.”

Oh, he is _so_ dead.

“Um,” Shouyou straightens behind his desk. “Thanks…?”

His following mistake is casually reaching for said schedule before the blonde servant had the opportunity to properly scold him. The paper is ripped away, exposing the rest of Yachi’s exasperated expression. “I rearranged it as many times as I could. The only way I could fit _another_ thing into your daily routine is by eliminating your lunch time.”

Shouyou sighs. “I know, I know.”

Normally, Yachi is one of the sweetest and docile people anyone could have the honor of meeting. She’s unfairly endearing and there isn’t a single soul in the castle that doesn’t adore her presence. However, they have also never been at the end of that sharp wit she keeps so well hidden.

“You’re running yourself ragged,” Yachi sighs. “You have to take a break or at least give up something.”

“You know I can’t, Hitoka. I have to learn all I can.” His voice is traced with intermingling frustration and exhaustion. They’ve had this conversation a million times over and yet every single one manages to prod at something he would much rather leave unbothered. He doesn’t want to dredge up unimportant emotions.

Yachi’s shoulders slacken and her fury ebbs into concern. “Does it have to be all at once though—”

“It has to be as soon as possible,” Shouyou states blandly. He turns his eyes to the window, gaze hopping across the luscious tufts of greens beyond the castle wall. Memories of his childhood when he would sneak past the large barriers and to the forests, digging his toes into the dirt and scraping his knees upon the bark of the large trunks he attempted to climb. He never got to stay long but it was a nice escape that he alone could venture to, though it was never long until he was caught. A corner of his lips quirk at the fond warmth blooming in his chest.

Soon his attention is brought back to Yachi as she gently lays the paper atop the letter he had been reading prior to her entry. “Fine,” she relents in a slightly pained manner. “But please…take care of yourself, Hinata-san. And also be sure to tell Natsu.”

Shouyou catches her hand, squeezing it gently between his larger ones. “Thank you.”

Yachi clasps his fingers and gives him an uncomposed grin shared only in the privacy of his office, where they can be as friendly as they please. Then she’s off, skirt whipping in the wake of her dramatic exit. 

Without any keen eyes upon him, he lets his own weight carry him down, until he’s barely on the chair at all. That could have gone worse, he muses, head tilting back to stare at the geometric shapes of fractured sunbeams spilling across his ceiling. Now all that is left, is to ask his teacher…

And judging by the lighting, it’s time for him to do so now.

Shouyou groans, slipping all the way out of his chair and into a crumpled heap on the floor underneath his desk. Immediately he hops up (slamming his head into the wood in the process) and lets out a relieving breath. The anxiousness bubbling in his stomach is overshadowed by his excitement to begin learning and he sets out to meet his new teacher.

* * *

The kitchen is less hectic than he expected. There’s not really bustling, more like practiced movements the worker’s muscles recite over and over purely by instinct. Dishes clash against the metal wash bins as they disappear into a soapy abyss. The furnaces are roaring and chanting along with the head cook. 

Shouyou recalls stowing away in the cupboards a few times in his childhood.

He loiters in the doorframe of the staircase, simply taking in the overwhelming energy flowing through the stuffy room. (It’s charming in its own way; simple, straightforward—exactly how he likes.) He runs over Kazuyo’s description in his head again. Thankfully the list is small enough for him to remember all the details.

“Tall, dark hair, hard to miss,” Shouyou mutters to himself, skimming over the heads of all the kitchen’s inhabitants. As soon as he begins searching, he finds exactly who he is searching for.

Kazuyo’s description certainly isn’t incorrect in the slightest, but even with it, air clogs in Shouyou’s throat. The man is, in fact, very tall. Strands of silky ebony fall delicately over his forehead and tickle at his cheekbones. The sun shines like a spotlight, highlighting the sharpness of his features and the darkness of his lashes. His steel eyes fixate with one minded focus on the dough he is kneading with the heels of his strong hands. Shoulders set with a regalness that can rival Kazuyo’s, he’s a sight that is unreckoned and Shouyou is suddenly absolutely powerless in the face of it.

Despite this idiodic weakness, his legs move by their own will towards the strange kitchen boy. Shouyou blinks and he’s across the table from one of the most fascinating people he’s ever seen in his life.

“Um, hi!” Shouyou cringes at his volume, much too loud and piercing for the subdued air. The other man startles, floured hands jerking like a child getting caught red-handed. Shouyou’s heart leaps a little at those keen eyes fixating on him but doesn’t let himself react outwardly. “I’m here because you’re supposed to give me archery lessons?”

The other man blinks, stares, doesn’t emote much besides two deep furrows creasing between his brows. “I don’t teach. Find someone else.”

Shouyou is taken aback a moment. How can a voice so rich and beautiful be so incredibly _rude?_ He shakes his head, resetting himself to push further. “You came highly recommended and I don’t really have anyone else…”

“I don’t teach,” the kitchen boy repeats, almost bored. He doesn’t even bother waiting for Shouyou to respond, merely resuming his previous task as if Shouyou had already left. 

Shouyou presses, “But you could at least try with me.”

“No.”

“Why not?!” Shouyou’s voice is once again at a level that is very inappropriate for the small setting and he is receiving quite a few pointed glares from the other kitchen staff. But it isn’t his fault that his potential teacher is an _ass._

Stupid Kitchen Man rolls his eyes. The heels of his palm dig into the poor dough with a newfound harshness. “Because I don’t have time to.”

“You’re just fluffing up the dough—” Shouyou wildly creates some absurd circular gestures with his hands and arms “—someone else can do that for a little while.”

Hands stop and his mouth drops agape in offense. “I’m not _fluffing_ it—”

“It won’t take long. I’m a fast learner,” Shouyou overrides him. He’s persistent, always has been, even though he rarely has to use it. People usually come easy. But _this bastard_ is making him feel devastatingly testy.

“I highly doubt that,” responds Rude Kitchen Boy, mocking quirk to his lips.

“Hey!” Shouyou tries to protest but the other pays no heed whatsoever and plows through any of his interjections.

“Besides, you have no previous knowledge or skill.”

“Wh—”

“I have no idea if any of this would be worth my time at all.”

Shouyou gapes. Not _worth time?_ Oh, Shouyou needs to show Mean Kitchen Dude just how wrong he is. If anyone could learn quickly, it is Shouyou. One of the few things he knows for certain is that his drive, his tenacity, are unmatched by any other. Be them nobility, servant, or citizen, _none_ could compete with him in that aspect. This guy overlooks that and now Shouyou is irked beyond belief.

He slams his hands on the table, leaning until they are but centimeters apart. “Then I’ll prove that I can do it,” he hisses. “Tomorrow. Noon. Courtyard.”

The callous young man in front of him raises a brow then morphs his expression into a twisted snarl. “Fine. Wear something you can sweat in.”

Shouyou is already sweating, unfortunately.

“Fine,” he grits between his teeth before pushing away (with slightly too much force, causing him to wobble in his dramatic walk away. Damn.)

Shouyou’s face has never reached such a brilliant shade of red from pure ferocity alone according to the telltale prickles on his hot cheeks. He forces a steamy breath from his lungs as he stomps up the stone steps. Tomorrow. Tomorrow is the day he shows that brainless boy he has no idea what he’s talking about.

* * *

Afternoon skies hover menacingly above head in a vivid presentation of Shouyou’s least favorite shade of blue. It’s too blinding, he thinks, barely mustering the energy to blink wearily. His dry lips part and ragged pants desperately rush through. The complaints of his aching body are swallowed by the dirt at his back, his failures are written in the shadows of the clouds above. He really hates that blue.

That Idiot decided that it was a good idea to do a mock lesson—a horrible, torture trap is a better name, honestly. They started with a race, one end of the quad to the other. Nothing awful—in fact, it was a _wonderful_ idea because Shouyou is insanely fast and beat out the other man. Then they raced again…and again…and again. Several times. A lot of times. How the hell Idiot had gotten so fast by working in the castle kitchen, Shouyou hasn’t the slightest idea. Not that it matters. Shouyou is still winning 11-10.

But then the real training started. Turns out, archery takes more arm muscle than swordplay and exercising that one movement repeatedly took a toll on his biceps rather quickly. God, he still can’t pull the string back without his teacher yelling at him for incorrect positioning or shaky execution.

Slowly, the face of his tormentor appears, blocking the horrendously bright sky from his field of vision. Sweat trickles down in beads, gathering on his chin and the divots of his collarbone. “You’re shit at this.”

Shouyou groans, humiliation bursting unhappily in his stomach and painting itself on his cheeks. Why did he have to say it _like that?_

“But I can teach you.”

Shouyou stalls, sure that he hadn’t heard correctly. Definitely not after the performance he just gave. But before him is a beautifully grumpy man holding out his calloused hand for Shouyou to latch onto. He does exactly that. Their palms meet and Shouyou shakily stands.

His chest swells, a smile overtaking his face as he celebrates with the world’s most pathetic fist bump to the sky. His new teacher moves to turn away, but Shouyou keeps his grip firm and shines his grin directly onto him. “Oh, by the way, what’s your name?”

A blink. A slight hesitation. “Kageyama Tobio.”

Shouyou pumps their clasped hands, smile climbing higher on his cheeks at the bewilderment on Kageyama’s face. “Hinata Shouyou.”

_And with that sweet utterance, a precipice is reached._


	2. Inure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The obligatory training/getting to know each other montage :D

Shouyou is a chronic dreamer. Not in the sense that he is hopeful, but in the sense that he dreams every single night. Most of them are pleasant, nonsensical dreams that he can hardly remember by the time he wakes. Then there are the others, which consist of memories and nightmares.

That night was no exception. Though perhaps it was worse.

He sees the day that he was caught sneaking out of the castle walls. _"It's too dangerous for you, Shouyou,"_ his father said. _"If you are going to be king, you must become the best you can. People will look to you and this kind of behavior will do you no good."_

Then the memory melds into another one, something from just a few years down the line. He's crying. Uncontrollable sobs rip from his throat as he hides. Some visiting ambassadors had brought their children, who were already doing arithmetic far beyond Shouyou's current comprehension. It shouldn't be this big of a deal. But the way their faces swim around him in the dark corner where he hides, haunts him. He hears their snickkers and jeers and his parent's sad eyes. He wasn't good enough. He wasn't the best for them and he felt so much regret for that.

It shifts again. He's at his own coronation. He's only 15. He turns to meet the crowd and listless stares bore into him. Faces of people he doesn't even know, silently sizing him up and ready to devour him.

He's 15 when he becomes the youngest ruler on their continent.

He's 15 when he truly begins to feel the weight of the world drag him under the floorboards, the expressionless eyes glaring at him on his way down.

Shouyou wakes with sweat dripping down his back. The weight of the world is still on his chest when he sits up.

* * *

The next day’s lesson begins with Kageyama thrusting an old bow towards Shouyou’s chest.

Shouyou frowns, taking the bow and testing the weight with some twitches of his wrist. He runs a thumb along the well-loved wood and studies the bend in the curve all the way to the end. Squinting he brings the top of the bow to his eye level. “Wait a minute—”

“If I’m going to teach you, you have to learn the parts of a bow first,” Kageyama states, settling legs crossed in the dirt next to them.

“But I’m here to learn to shoot! That’s too easy…” Shouyou’s jaw juts out awkwardly as he tries desperately to maintain a strict face that is _not_ a pout.

Kageyama mimics his expression. His bottom lip puffs slightly, eyebrows knit together in a tight knot—it’s equally as childish and stubborn. The flecks of grey in his dark blue eyes flicker but his voice remains steady. “You can’t start anything until you know what the hell you’re talking about!”

“I know enough!” Shouyou grips the bow until his knuckles creak with protest. “You pull the string back then _FWISH_ and _PSHT_ and it hits the target.”

Kageyama looks at him incredulously. “It can’t be fwish _and_ psht.”

Shouyou flounders for some sort of answer and ends up sputtering like a doused campfire. “Of course it can!”

The wrinkle between Kageyama’s brows soften as he touches the thumb of his loose fist to his chin, staring at the ground with a hard, concentrated stare. “It’s more of a _thtunk._ You don’t know anything at all.”

Gracelessly, Shouyou flops in front of Kageyama—he _hates_ sitting. He taps Kageyama’s stained trousers with the tip of the bow (probably a little too harshly but Kageyama doesn’t give any indication of feeling pain, only an annoyed slap to the object hitting him). Shouyou presses his elbows into his thighs to keep them from bouncing—the energy mounts uncomfortably and tiredness inhabits muscles as he knew they would.

“Fine,” Shouyou grits out. “The sooner we get to the fun part, the better.”

Kageyama grants him a curt nod and begins his explanation.

Predictably, after the first seconds, Shouyou can only retain every other word that comes out of Kageyama’s mouth. The grumbles from his stomach certainly do nothing to help with this fact.

* * *

Kageyama, Shouyou soon learns, has unbelievably high standards. In their very first official lesson, Shouyou urged Kageyama not to go easy on him in any capacity. Kageyama certainly seems to have taken this to heart—or maybe he would have done it anyway; he seems to be the type.

But what Shouyou appreciates the most about his lessons with Kageyama is he isn’t necessarily hard on him because he’s frustrated (though he definitely can be) or because he wants to invalidate his work. He shows that he knows Shouyou is capable of succeeding—a far cry from high societal expectations that others in power expect you to be unable to reach. He’s not pushing Shouyou because he thinks he is doomed to fail; he pushes him because he knows he is capable of succeeding. Kageyama looks for the correct sequences to act out, the right pieces to slot together, and makes arrangements to ensure that happens. It’s…new. Shouyou thinks he likes it.

If his speech was impeded before, now it had been unleashed. Unbridled and at full force Kageyama verbally berates every mistake or slight lapse Shouyou might have during their sessions. And they still haven’t gotten past the basics.

“Focus, dumbass!”

Ah, he’s earned quite the nickname.

“I am focusing, _sensei.”_

His returning insult on the other hand, is a work in progress.

Their banter adds a special flavor to their lessons, even if Shouyou wants to whack the top of Kageyama’s head with his stringless bow half the time. 

* * *

Somewhere amidst his training, Shouyou is certain a celestial accidentally slotted an additional hour in the day. Extra minutes drag through every portion of Shouyou’s schedule, running and running until he’s dried out enough to let his head hit the pillow. How long it takes for his eyes close and succumb to the sleep scratching behind his eyes, varies from night to night.

Yachi and Natsu are naturally the first to comment on this. He gives his signature smile—it’s easier to hide the dark marks under his eyes if he grins—telling them that he’s simply sore from archery. Neither push much after that, surprisingly (thankfully).

But either way, the outcome is the same: Shouyou is _grumpy_ by the time the fourth week of lessons makes its appearance.

He’s struggling still (a lot) and Kageyama certainly tells him as much. But now he’s upgraded to an actual bow (after a full lesson explaining proper safety precautions, where Shouyou thought he was going to pass out from pure boredom; week two was frustrating).

However, now that Kageyama’s slug paced lessons are over, Shouyou only has himself to blame for the lack of progress he’s making. 

He’s so close to finally catching onto a rhythm, finding where the bend becomes the break. But _so close_ is not good enough. It never has been, especially not for someone in his position. Dense anxiety billows behind his ribs. 

Every emotion gravitates towards him and, today, they are all at his back when Kageyama comments on a shot that completely missed its mark.

“You still can’t even hit the target.” Kageyama clicks his tongue, impatiently retrieving the fallen arrow. “Your aim is all around shit. Why are you bothering—”

Before he could complete his sentence, Shouyou has his small dagger drawn and thrown directly at the target. The blade _thunks_ in the direct center—several meters away from Shouyou, a few decimeters away from where Kageyama is standing.

Kageyama blinks.

“My aim isn’t the problem.”

Kageyama’s face didn’t change, but Shouyou is relatively certain that he believes him. Refreshing. His piercing gaze travels up and down Shouyou’s body in a quick once over. Once he gets back to the king’s face, his eyes narrow slightly. Shouyou braces for an insult at his stance but it never comes.

Kageyama is quieter than usual throughout the rest of their lesson. He seems rather thoughtful. It’s an expression Shouyou hasn’t seen that often, and definitely not with this level of concentration. He soaks in every detail of it, filing it away in the little space in his brain dedicated to the subtleties of Kageyama’s face, then loads another arrow into his bow.

Shouyou’s stray mind is placated as he allows it to fill with thoughts of archery and the mysteries of the boy who teaches it. 

* * *

Shouyou is addicted to a very specific rush. It’s the kind of elation he would feel as a child on his forest excursions, after climbing to the highest branch. The wind tangled its fingers into his hair and cooled the sweat from his cheeks in steady caresses—its freedom stirred a precarious restlessness within his chest. 

It’s that feeling he has thought of every single day since his parents put an end to his little trips—since he truly became ‘Prince Shouyou’, then later a king.

And unexpectedly, he reaches a level all too similar to that childish elation the first time his arrow hits its mark.

The first time Shouyou sees Kageyama smile.

* * *

Within the third month, Kageyama blurts out a very random question. “How was the potato soup?” 

Shouyou releases the arrow he had drawn back. (Closer to the center this time. Better.) It’s rather unusual for Kageyama to talk about anything other than archery, in fact, it’s probably the first time either of them has done so. “The what?”

“Soup,” Kageyama crosses his arms, watching Shouyou nocks in another arrow. “Your lunch. I made it.”

Shouyou snickers, drawing the string back and focusing on the target. “I didn’t know you were so self-conscious about your cooking, Snarky-yama.”

Yeah, the comeback nickname still needs some work. Though, the gentle scrunch to Kageyama’s nose is endearing enough that Shouyou decides the stupid insults are worth it. Especially if said insults help him avoid telling Kageyama that he had not eaten lunch since they started lessons.

“Dumbass, just answer the question,” Kageyama bites defensively.

Shouyou can’t stop the sigh that falls from his lips as he lowers his bow. There are always so many _questions_ being thrown at him, the last thing he needs is for Kageyama to join in the fray. This is his time to get away from all that, hear harsh words based on irrefutable facts instead of assumptions.

“I…loved it?” Oh gods, why is it so hard to lie to Kageyama? Maybe it has something to do with the sudden attention that isn’t scrutinizing—there’s no aggression in Kageyama’s posture, only a reciprocal hesitant openness. Seeing how Kageyama genuinely believes he will tell the truth drives regret directly into his heart.

Shouyou doesn’t take the time to gage his reaction, instantly readying his bow again and taking aim. This shot lands. Not where he wants it to, but it's at least on the target. 

The following lesson Shouyou is hardly past the entrance to the pavilion when he’s shoved to the ground. His tailbone hits the unforgiving ground below him. “What the—” A paper bag thumps against his chest. Shouyou barely has the sense to fumble for it before it hits the deck as well. Then there’s someone sitting next to him.

Shouyou whips to shout at Kageyama—because _who else_ could it possibly be. But Kageyama already has a roll shoved in his mouth. Half of the beautiful golden-brown loaf sticks out, his hands already ruffling through his own bag for another one. It’s one of the few instances in which Kageyama doesn’t wear a frown or a wrinkle to his brow. He’s eyes are fully open, occupied with the choices within his lap.

The afternoon sun beats down harshly on his exposed skin, reddening his nose and making the veins in his forearms pop out. The crinkling of the paper sack is the only thing that rings through the space between them. Shouyou isn’t sure if it’s the heat, his hunger, or the dizzying whiplash in Kageyama’s demeanor that makes his head simultaneously spin and fill with cotton.

“’m hungry,” Kageyama mumbles, popping a torn piece of bread into his awaiting mouth. “Eat.” 

Slowly, Shouyou obeys, nibbling on the perfectly shaped roll. He really loves bread, especially now, with a breeze ruffling his hair, the overgrown strands slipping from their sloppy tie to tickle his cheeks. 

When Kageyama finishes, he wipes his palms on his pants and stands. He lifts his arms high above his head to stretch and Shouyou has to will his eyes not to wander too much. Kageyama steps away, glancing over his shoulder to deliver an impromptu bit of information. “I don’t know how to make potato soup.”

…oh.

* * *

Silence plagues the meals they share. The general indifference of his partner gnawing at Shouyou’s restraints. Unabashedly, Shouyou lets words spill from his mouth to smooth over the quietness and ease his mind. Unexpectedly, Kageyama soon begins to fill in the gaps Shouyou cannot. 

The information he gathers from these conversations are exclusively arguments and mundane facts.

But now he knows that Kageyama is a 24-year-old who loves cats and is close friends with his former mentor Suga; which, in Shouyou’s non-humble opinion is so much more fascinating than Kitchen Boy turned Mysterious Archery Teacher. He’s the same Kageyama but now he’s so much more.

It’s also a more pleasant experience to talk to someone when his stomach isn’t groaning and his exhaustion is stayed for a few extra hours.

* * *

One aspect about Kageyama that Shouyou quickly learns about is his ability to subvert every expectation imaginable. As soon as Shouyou is sure he has Kageyama’s personality pinned down, Kageyama will make an off-handed comment that will tip his perspective to an entirely different angle.

It’s shown in the way he teaches, unyielding and formidable.

It’s shown in the quiet meal they share in the minutes before they begin archery.

It’s shown in the gentle touches when he adjusts Shouyou’s (atrocious) stance.

It’s certainly something he’s unused to—seeing multiple facets of a person’s personality—and quickly becomes the favorite part of his day. However, the life of a king has shown him that everything must come at a price. Shouyou only has to find a proper tactic to pay.

He supposes, after a full month of Kageyama adapting to Shouyou’s lack of self-preservation, the least he can do is meet him halfway.

But even so, he still isn’t quite sure if this is what compels him to leave his study early and traverse deep into his castle’s kitchen to find Kageyama. Maybe it’s simply the desire to discover even more new things about Kageyama. Or he wants to see what the hell he puts in those pastries that makes them so addictive. That one seems most likely.

So once more he’s trapped in the doorway of a stuffy kitchen, staring at the concentrated pull to Kageyama’s mouth, the tiny peak of his tongue between his lips. He’s still messing with some sort of dough. As if he heard Shouyou’s incorrect wording, Kageyama’s hands pause and his eyes shoot up.

Deep azure slices right through any preemptive thought.

Shouyou raises his hand in a lame wave.

“What are you doing here?” Kageyama runs his thumb and forefinger along the hem of his apron in a short steady rhythm.

Clearing his throat, Shouyou shuffles to the table in front of Kageyama. “I’m…here to help?”

Kageyama crosses his arms across his chest. “Help? In here? What, you want to ‘fluff’ the dough? You have an entire kitchen at your disposal so why would you...?”

Shouyou isn’t entirely sure how he’s supposed to respond to that because he himself cannot name a logical reason for him to have left his study before he was supposed to. “You bring me something every day.” Shouyou cringes at his extremely unhelpful answer.

“Every cook in this kitchen makes you something every day,” Kageyama points out. “Why. Why me?”

Shouyou gestures lamely in front of his body while his shoulders creep up to his ears. “I don’t know. I feel like I know you better, I guess. You’re my…” All the standard labels flit through Shouyou’s mind in that moment but somehow none of them seem quite right. Kageyama is technically his teacher, possibly a friend if you grasp for the right straws, but neither convey what Kageyama is to Shouyou. (What _is_ Kageyama to Shouyou?) “You’re Kageyama.”

Kageyama doesn’t look like he understands, perhaps that’s for the best. “You’re an idiot. Grab an apron.”

Shouyou grins so widely so suddenly the tops of his cheeks jump in exertion.

Quickly, Shouyou opens all the nearby cabinets until he finds the sturdy white cloth of an apron. He ties it haphazardly and bounds over to Kageyama’s side. When they’re standing this close (which they typically are at least a meter apart), side by side, Shouyou really notices how _tall_ Kageyama is. Ug, of course he has stupidly long legs and wide shoulders that make Shouyou unbelievably small in comparison. Maybe he had made a mistake.

Kageyama sets about mumbling to himself. Something about changing his plans to the simplest food possible. Shouyou huffs at his ridiculousness. Baking can’t be _that_ hard. 

Luckily, it isn’t really. Kageyama already had a dough prepared so all Shouyou has to do right now is help him shape the rolls. Easy-peasy.

Shouyou reaches out with grabby hands but Kageyama slaps his wrist sharply. He retracts. “Ow!”

“Don’t just dig your fingers into the dough like that, dumbass,” Kageyama berates him. He divides the lump into twelve even sections. “We want them to be as close in size as possible.”

Shouyou nods with determination, gingerly scooping up one of the pieces into his palm. He pokes the top of the cute blob, leaving a slight indent in the swell. He can’t help to giggle at the adorableness of it as he gently rounds out the edges with the tips of his fingers and palms. In the end, the roll is sloppy, a little uneven, but Shouyou decides he likes it and puts it in the pan with the ones Kageyama already finished.

“Wow, you’re really fast, Kageyama,” Shouyou exclaims. Most of the other sections have already been shaped and placed but when Shouyou looks at Kageyama, he slows down considerably.

“I work here, dumbass.”

“Well, yeah,” Shouyou flushes, grabbing another piece and tossing it between his hands. “But you’re still good at this. You’re also really good at archery though. So why did you choose baking?”

Kageyama tenses, releases a breath that shifts his bangs out of his eyes. There are small specks of flour dotting his hair—it reminds Shouyou of the stardust that spreads across the pitch-black glass of the night sky. “I didn’t really.”

Shouyou hums, setting his second misshapen blob into the pan. “I guess that’s true. You still do archery with me. But wouldn’t you rather do something else with it?”

“No. I tried, and it didn’t work out.”

Shouyou lets the statement fade completely from the air, saying nothing. 

“I was the master huntsman for a noble. But that was a long time ago,” Kageyama says softly. 

Shouyou’s eyes go wide. _“WAH!_ That’s so cool, Kageyama! Oh man, you had to have been young too.”

Kageyama frowns at the dough in his hands, mouth thinned into a line. “I was too young and too incompetent for the job.” He sighs. “There were so many people watching me, waiting for me to fuck up. And I did. Moving here was necessary.”

Living under constant pressure, no matter how mild, shapes certain aspects of the psyche. Even if the source vanishes, the phantom pains will always be at your back and in moments of weakness, creep around your neck. This is a fact of life, Shouyou is all too familiar with.

“I wish they had watched you for the right reasons,” Shouyou starts. “It’s really hard when you know people are constantly on you because they want you to mess up. And it really sucks when you inevitably slip. But you have so many other frustratingly nice things about you—it makes me so mad.”

Kageyama doesn’t move an inch. Shouyou plucks the dough from Kageyama’s limp hands and finishes off the pan.

“Come on.” Shouyou wraps his slender fingers around Kageyama’s wrist, giving him the most assuring smile. “You have people who see you for the right reasons now. And I know you see me too so we’re even.”

A light flush dusts across Kageyama’s cheekbones, his vulnerable eyes wide and open for Shouyou to see. Then, miraculously, his mouth twitches and then appears a smile so subtle and delicate, Shouyou ceases to breathe.

They soon separate, Shouyou rubbing at the heat prickling at his cheeks. Then he tries to put the rolls in the oven without letting them rise and the tender energy between them shatters as Kageyama lets loose. This leads to a screaming Kageyama chasing a screeching Shouyou around, terrorizing the whole kitchen.

Shouyou thinks it’s overall successful. He makes it a part of his routine to join Kageyama in the kitchen on the days he can manage it. Kageyama bans him to the stool in the corner of the kitchen when he does come by.

_He trips over the edge and with nothing to grapple onto, he enters freefall._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate title from my beta's comments: ohmygodiveneverbeensothirstyinmylife


	3. Petrichor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp. it's 6.9k. which is funny because this is where the mild nsfw happens. It's mostly implied but if you'd rather not read it skip from "That night there are whispers. Small utterances shared between two magnetized spirits seeking one another. And then so much more" to the end!
> 
> Happy reading, fellow simps :D

Kageyama Tobio is unlike any other friend Shouyou has made in his life; that becomes overwhelmingly clear to him very quickly. They frequently spend hours with one another, purposefully pressing the right buttons to incite the annoyance of their companion. The hushed and heated arguments they have in their small corner of the kitchen (they had been banished to because apparently they’re both “enabling hellions”) that turn into regular conversation or soft assurances become his favorite part of his schedule—unofficial as they may be.

Currently, Shouyou has an arrow nocked, loaded and ready to be released from its position at his cheek. He’s honed in on the one area of the target he has yet to properly hit yet, breath waving through the fletching. He can do it; he knows he can.

Soft fingers skim along his right bicep. The shot immediately strays, landing only a few centimeters from the outer edge.

Thus, brings him to another aspect of his odd “friendship” with Kageyama he hasn't experienced with any other friend. Besides having an unusual amount of time that they spend together and the bond that has formed as a result of this, Kageyama stands out from everyone else in his life because he is simply too damn pretty for his own good.

Of course, Shouyou has no shortage of unbelievably pretty friends, do not mistake him. But Kageyama is the kind of beautiful that will strike him to the bone in a moment’s notice, regardless if he’s currently present or not. It is sheer ridiculousness how Shouyou can be in his office performing the most mundane of his tasks then suddenly remember the awkwardly genuine lilt of Kageyama’s mouth when he smiles and finds his own grin forming.

It isn’t as if he hadn’t  _ noticed  _ before. He hasn’t changed physically within the months they’d shared an acquaintance and he’d have to be a complete fool to not see how attractive Kageyama is.

Even now, his face is near Shouyou’s ear muttering too-loud critiques of his form and how he needs to relax his shoulders more. (And just how the  _ hell  _ does Kageyama expect him to do that when he’s breathing down his neck?) The afternoon light washes over his face, melted sunshine molds against the slopes of his cheeks and nose, highlighting the pale roots of his dark eyelashes. He’s focused, poised, in his element and it’s suddenly too much for Shouyou to handle—there’s an odd twinge in his heart that hadn’t been there before.

Kageyama’s head tilts, grey-blue eyes colliding with Shouyou’s gaping stare.

Shouyou tries his best to not make it seem like he’s scrambling to get away, but Kageyama’s expression turns sour—confused and concerned—and Shouyou is too afraid he will somehow hear the onslaught of thoughts he should not be having, to do anything except step away silently.

* * *

“So how was your day,  _ nii-chan?” _

Shouyou is half-sitting, his ass not even  _ touching  _ the chair and Natsu is at his throat. She’s poised with her chin in her hands, almost completely out of her seat with how much she’s leaned towards Shouyou’s position at the head of the table. He sits fully and fiddles with the polished silverware. “Um, good? I talked with Kazuyo a lot about budgets and—"

“And what about archery?” Fixating on her own plate as she arranges herself in her seat properly, her familiar eyes burst in fits of mischief. Shouyou swears, if he didn’t know she was scheduled to eat lunch he would’ve sworn she saw the strange instance with Kageyama earlier.

Shouyou presses his lips together, suppressing the grin that threatens to break through and any other unwanted reactions. “It’s alright,” he remarks casually, stirring at the soup set in front of him. He wonders if Kageyama made it. “I’m definitely not good but I am improving.”

His mouth twitches as excitement wells behind his ribs. If there is something Shouyou is not exceptional at (that he has no qualms with not being great at), it’s hiding his emotions—especially if that emotion is as palpable as the one that strikes him when he traverses down to the palace kitchens. Plus, this is  _ Natsu,  _ who has a scarily accurate read on Shouyou. But somehow admitting such happiness feels…wrong. Like he’s losing focus of his initial goal.

Long ago, his parents made it abundantly clear that no one person should ever get in the way of his duties or of controlling how the other nobles perceived him. Image is everything. (Even so, the only image that Shouyou is very interested in lately is the one of Kageyama’s light snort when Shouyou made a stupid joke.)

“Have you ever considered that the only reason you like archery so much is because of your teacher?” 

Shouyou chokes on his food.  _ “Hah?”  _

Natsu has the gall to laugh at him as he struggles to properly breathe with soup invading his lungs. “You really think I didn’t investigate after you said you were going to abandon our lunches? Luckily, watching you constantly miss the target because you’re too busy staring at your hot teacher is more entertaining than any conversation we’ve ever had.”

Shouyou can’t do anything except gape, thoroughly mortified and insulted.

“Listen,” Natsu continues, steadily shoving food in her mouth as if they were talking about the weather. Stray baby hairs bob against her forehead as she turns to address him. “I know you aren’t just doing archery because you have to anymore. Even though I don’t think you ever really  _ had _ to in the first place.”

“I don’t…” The lie catches between his teeth. It bridles his tongue because he  _ does  _ know exactly what she’s talking about. He knows underneath all the layers of lessons telling him how to behave, the lists of who he should associate himself with, and the suppression of his “bothersome” habits. His leg trembles in his efforts not to bounce them nervously. As he was trained to, he controls his voice, wary of the volume, and recites his next line perfectly. “If people are going to respect our kingdom, I have to be as accomplished as I possibly can. Archery is something I have to do.”

“But spending time with that kitchen boy isn’t something you have to do,” Natsu fires back. She’s long forgone being gentle when he slips into this lifeless shell of decorum. “Whether you realize it or not, you aren’t ever going to be this idealized version of the perfect king so just do what you  _ want  _ for once.”

Dinner passes in silence.

Shouyou doesn’t eat another bite.

* * *

Shouyou is distracted the next day. 

Natsu’s words are on an endless loop within his mind, reminding him of how he draws short.

He wishes his initial reaction wasn’t to forgo all of his office time in the morning to rush into the kitchen, hiding in the small affections Kageyama affords him. Unfortunately, the more time he spends alone, the louder his insecurities become, and he caves, quickly stripping his formal attire and into the dirt sodden training clothes he’s grown accustomed to.

Kageyama is the same as always, snarky and bold—a great comfort to Shouyou. He’s steady and Shouyou is ever so grateful.

However, when training begins, Kageyama brings out his own bow and sets up a second target. His first shots land within centimeters of the direct center.

There’s a certain air about him when he’s the one with a bow in his hands, one that is all-consuming and sucks the air right from Shouyou’s lungs at its force. He’s noticed a few times before when Kageyama would snatch the bow from his inexperienced hands and try to demonstrate what he was trying to explain. Its strength is multiplied now that Kageyama is in total control—and  _ shit  _ Shouyou hopes he doesn’t notice how long he’s been staring.

“Hey, Kageyama?”

_ Thtunk.  _ Right next to his last shot. “What.”

“Do you love archery?” Shouyou doesn’t know why that was the question that came from his mouth.

Kageyama raises a brow, prepping another arrow. “Yeah, I do.”

_ Thtunk.  _ Dead center.

“Why?”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Kageyama’s eyes never once leave the target, but his chest puffs out slightly and the corners of his lips twitch upward. “It makes me feel like I could do anything. Like I could touch clouds or something…” He hesitates, almost sheepishly—this does things to Hinata’s heart.

Even from his few words, Shouyou knows for certain that Kageyama has a drive and passion for archery that he simply...doesn’t have. Which is  _ wrong  _ because he has to be better if he’s going to be the  _ best  _ as a king should be. But then why doesn’t he feel the same as Kageyama? This is so confusing.

“I did it with my grandfather a lot when I was little. It’s fun for me, I guess,” Kageyama concludes, glancing over to Shouyou briefly before looking to the ground in a way that is  _ definitely  _ sheepish. “I want you to have fun too.”

Despite the confusion haunting him, Shouyou cannot stop the smile from spreading across his face. “I am.”

And it isn’t a lie at all. Archery with Kageyama is extremely enjoyable, even if he is stupid and doesn’t have any manners.

They resume practice but with the approach of the summer months, the heat soon becomes unbearable. Kageyama rids himself of his shirt, so the sweaty shirt fabric won’t get in his way, he explains. And Shouyou supposes that’s pretty fun too. 

* * *

That evening the hallways warp around him as he strides. The sunset filters in with fractured beams of fried auburn reflecting off the shiny mineral. His brain is clotted with the wisdoms that have been unwillingly bestowed upon him, the sentences pave the sun kissed marble in a rare eruption of abstraction.

His parents’ dying wish was that he become the best king he can be.

Natsu begs for him to find something outside of the confines of his birth.

Yachi asks that he grant himself the most basic of human needs.

But what about  _ Shouyou?  _ Can he allow himself any of that?

What does  _ Kageyama  _ want from Shouyou?

The brightness of the hallway becomes as overwhelming as the inside of his head has become. Everything is so very loud—Shouyou can’t even pinpoint the exact reason as to why. Blooming in his chest is the instinct that begs for him to run away.

He glances out the window, blinking away the blinding light peeking over the treetops. The verdant greens bathe in the last of the sun’s rays in a picturesque view he longs to be a part of. And there, in the midst of his castle’s emptiness, Shouyou gazes over the protective walls and sees an opportunity.

He is struck with an idea.

* * *

Once the idea is related to Yachi the next day, she openly gapes at him. Her brown eyes are wide and disbelieving. “Y-you…you want me to cover for you?”

Shouyou has the decency to be a little sheepish. “Yes, that sounds about right.”

Yachi starts to flounder more, face contorting into varying degrees of confusion. Finally, she settles on a slightly narrow, very suspicious one. “Who are you?”

A laugh startles from Shouyou’s throat.

“No, I’m serious,” Yachi frantically steers the conversation back. “You want me to cover for you while you and your archery teacher go on a three-day hunting trip.  _ Alone.” _

“Um…yes?”

_ “Who are you?!”  _

“Shh!” Shouyou shushes her, nodding towards the door where his guards stand dutifully. “I don’t want the whole castle knowing. Just in case.”

Yachi flops onto his desk, pout pulling at her lower lip and arms crossed across her chest. “How are we going to trick all of them?”

“I’ll handle a majority of it,” Shouyou pats her arm. “All you have to do is make sure Natsu and Kazuyo stay out of my room. I’ve already talked with Suga, he’ll vouch that I’m sick and can’t take visitors. Tanaka and Noya will be the ones posted at my room during the day, no one at night so I can sneak back in.”

Yachi lays her hand on his shoulder—the gesture is so earnest Shouyou can’t help but feel touched. “I promise I’ll do w-whatever I can. I’m—” her wide brown eyes sparkle “—very happy for you.”

Shouyou envelopes her in a tight hug, kissing her forehead sweetly, like when he’s affectionate towards Natsu. “I’ll be back before you know it, Hitoka.”

Yachi strengthens her grip but Shouyou can feel her smile against his collarbone.

* * *

“You want to go on a hunt?”

“A hunt? With who? How?”

“With me.”

“But why would you want to…with me?”

“Because I think it’ll be fun! C’mon, help me escape the castle for a little bit. Please?”

“Fine. When do we leave.”

“Meet me at sunrise tomorrow, in the gardens behind the kitchen.”

* * *

Shouyou doesn’t think it should be as easy to sneak out of the castle as it turns out to be. Before the sun has risen, he wakes, shoulders his pack of essentials and climbs out the window. 

Kageyama awaits him by the back door of the kitchen, all too casual propped against the wall. He’s slumped slightly and an invisible pull tugs his lips into a sharp frown. He’s more rumpled than usual—his clothes are disheveled and eyebags mar his cheekbones—and he struggles to hold back a yawn. It doesn’t take him long to notice Shouyou approaching. The dim morning brings out the dark grey in Kageyama’s eyes as he perks to attention, wrinkles in his scowl smoothing.

Shouyou bites his lip to keep from grinning too wide. He nods in the direction of their escape route and Kageyama is quick to follow him.

Before Shouyou can blink, they’re past the castle walls and in the small clearing that spreads before the line of trees. Nostalgia sends tremors through his body, pooling in his fingertips and bounding to the tips of his feet. Instinctively, he clenches his fists to keep from leaping across the clearing.

He looks to Kageyama, trying to keep his eagerness at bay, but what he sees is an irresistible gleam that rises to accept his challenge. Shouyou doesn’t hide his grin, and lets his legs move at the exact same time Kageyama’s do.

The vibrant emeralds pass in watered down blurs and laughter spills from Shouyou’s mouth. He rushes past Kageyama, sticking his tongue out at him as he passes. Kageyama sputters.

“Dumbass! You’re going to trip over yourself, stupid!”

“I don’t care if I’m stupid for the next few days,  _ Baka-yama!”  _ Shouyou skips, tilting to grin at the brightening sky above. “You’re the only one who has to deal with me!”

Kageyama quickly catches up, huffing in response. “What makes you think I’ll stay?”

The air in Shouyou’s lungs spark, spreading a wildfire through his veins as he catches Kageyama’s gaze. “Will you?”

Kageyama scowls. Lightly, he pushes Shouyou, not enough for him to lose balance but enough for him to get the message:  _ I’m here, aren’t I? _

They slow once they reach the outstretch of forest.

“I won that one,” Kageyama says confidently. Nodding to himself in satisfaction, Kageyama strides right into the treetops’ shade.

“I got here at least 3 seconds before you did!” Shouyou complains between panting breaths. “That was my win!”

Kageyama hums. “No.”

“Stupid!” Shouyou lightly punches Kageyama’s arm, knowing it won’t phase him in the slightest. “Meanie-yama. You  _ know  _ that one goes to me. You’re just a sore loser!”

“Can’t be because I didn’t lose.”

“You’re such an  _ ass  _ when it comes to competing.”

“Doesn’t matter. I still won.”

Such intelligent conversation continues until they find a suitable spot for them to set up camp for the next couple days. 

Once he’s found relatively flat ground, Shouyou meticulously takes out the individual pieces to the tent. He and Yachi had gone over the steps of putting it together before he left because he’d be damned if Kageyama were to show him up at something as stupid as this.

His arms still get tangled in the fabric much to his chagrin. Out of the corner of his eyes, he notices Kageyama picking up dried sticks and putting them in a pile nearby. “Hey, Kageyama, aren’t you going to put up your tent?”

Kageyama dusts his hands off after dumping the next armful into the pile. “You said you were bringing them.”

Shouyou pauses, arms flopping uselessly into his lap. “Yeah, my tent.”

Kageyama blinks several times in succession. His cheeks start to color. “The tents.”

“The tent…”

“My tent…?”

“…our tent now?” Shouyou’s stomach is churning. He’s going to be berated, he’s already messed up this badly.  _ How?  _ He wasn’t even thinking about asking for two at the time and—oh  _ god,  _ now he has to share a tent with Kageyama. Sleep in close proximity with Kageyama. Not good, not good at all, there’s too much for him to figure out for him to be such mind-numbing (heart-pounding) proximity with  _ Kageyama.  _ This is all Kageyama’s fault. He’s so dumb and too damn  _ beautiful— _

“You want to go hunt now? —"

“Absolutely, let’s go.”

He’ll deal with his invasive thoughts about Kageyama when the sun sets. For now, he has no qualms with taking the rest of the day to prove his newfound skill.

However, it is very quickly that he discovers one glaring problem with this plan: hunting is  _ boring. _

The energy builds beneath his skin and no matter how much he shifts; he’s itching to  _ do  _ something. Kageyama glares at him every time he makes too much movement or noise—he got a particularly nasty look when he tried to whisper something to Kageyama. Which, in Shouyou’s defense, they are only a few feet apart and he figured whispering would be okay. (Kageyama snaps that Shouyou was not, in fact, whispering at all. Whoops.)

Shouyou settles for balling his hands into fists and squeezing at fast intervals because everything else he seems to do is too loud. He also becomes quickly bored with the same exact view of the forest floor. The greens and browns blend with one another after a while. So he switches his view to something much more dynamic.

Kageyama is a very tall man. The branch he’s on is thick but the expanse of his legs still appear to be cramped, his mud-splattered boots hardly fit in the spot. The worn olive cotton of his shirt stretches thin across his chest and shoulders, which only worsens when he draws his bow back. Pitch-black strands of hair fall loosely from their tie and frame his face, one rouge trickling over his forehead to the slope of his nose. His steel blue eyes are hard with a single-minded focus, alight with a fixation Shouyou only finds when studying Kageyama himself.

_ Thtunk. _

Shouyou blinks. A corner of Kageyama’s mouth lifts. Wait a minute…

“That’s dinner,” Kageyama quips, vaulting from his position to inspect his catch—leaving Shouyou half-off a branch, arrow notched loosely between wilted fingers, and cheeks alight.

Shakily, Shouyou reluctantly climbs down to join Kageyama in inspecting their dinner several meters away. Shouyou doesn’t know what the creature is, but he knows a good shot when he sees one now. If he wasn’t so disoriented by how he’d been so absorbed in studying the light sunspots on Kageyama’s nose he hadn’t even seen him  _ move,  _ he might’ve commented on it.

(Shouyou really wishes he’d brought another tent.)

The trip back to camp doesn’t do any favors in clearing his head. His growing attraction to Kageyama is getting harder to ignore. He supposes he had been looking for some sort of distraction but…

“You don’t have to like hunting to like archery, you know.” Kageyama doesn’t make eye contact and speaks quietly but with no small amount of conviction. “You’re never going to escape like you want to if you keep doing the same thing to yourself out here as you do in your castle. Choose what you’d rather do, idiot. I’ll handle the hunting.”

Shouyou doesn’t respond. Neither speak much for the rest of the day, not even when they unfold their bedrolls on opposite sides of their shared tent. Shouyou goes to sleep on the hard ground, marinating Kageyama’s words within the dark corners of his torso, back turned to the soft rhythmic breathing less than a meter away from him.

* * *

Stubbornly, Shouyou refuses to give in and joins Kageyama hunting the next day as well. It ends up being the mirror image of the day before. Shouyou gets incredibly bored which leads him to stare at Kageyama until he’s wrangled up their meals and he walks back to camp in a silently flustered manner.

He doesn’t let their dinner pass silently though.

“I know a lot about you now, Kageyama-kun,” Shouyou teases across the campfire. (Shouyou is very proud of how quickly he learned to make a fire, even if he had made Kageyama angry by dousing the one he had already prepared and demanding that he teach Shouyou how to do it too.)

Kageyama raises a brow, poking his next bite with his fork. “So?”

Kageyama is very talented but sometimes starting a conversation is like trying to tear down his entire castle brick by brick. “So it’s weird that I don’t know some basic things about you.”

“Like what?”

Shouyou rolls his eyes but chews his food thoughtfully. “Hmmm. Oh! Like how you know Kazuyo!”

Kageyama’s head tilts slightly, glancing at Shouyou. “He’s my grandfather. Why? Do you know him?”

“Your…” Shouyou gapes.  _ “Grandfather?!” _

Oh my god, he’s so stupid. His name is  _ Kageyama Kazuyo  _ for god’s sake. How did he miss something like that?

“Yes, he’s the reason I moved here after I was a huntsman,” Kageyama remarks casually. He shoves a forkful of food in his mouth. “I don’t know what he does in the castle though. Does he work close to you?”

Well…that’s part of the reason how. Because Kageyama is  _ just as much of a blind idiot as Shouyou. _

Shouyou has to set his fork down to slap a hand over his face. He groans at their stupidity. “He’s my advisor, Baka-yama.”

“…Oh.”

Shouyou sighs with a slight exhale. “Well, do you have any other family I need to know about?”

“I have an older sister Miwa who works here too.” Kageyama shrugs. “But that’s it.”

“Oooh, so you’re the baby of the family. How adorable.”

“Shut up.”

“Baby-yama!”

_ “Shut up.” _

Shouyou laughs, unrestrained and full-bellied. Day 2 turns out to be a really great day. Especially after he catches Kageyama in the act of hiding his small smile.

* * *

“Hey,” Kageyama opens the tent flap, voice cutting through the early morning air. “Are you ready yet? We have to leave soon.”

Shouyou pauses. He rolls Kageyama’s advice over in his head. Is archery and hunting itself  _ worth  _ pursuing if it stresses him out so much? He isn’t sure. He doesn’t know at all. But…there’s no sense in ruining Kageyama’s fun while they’re out here. “No. I think I’ll…stay here today. Maybe scout the area or something.”

Surprisingly, Kageyama gives no form of resistance, only nods quickly and leaves the tent. “I made breakfast. I’ll be back with lunch and dinner later,” he throws over his shoulder before disappearing in the woods.

It only takes a moment of doing nothing except sitting in his bedroll for Shouyou to decide what he’s going to do with his time. He hops to his feet and rushes outside as soon as Kageyama is out of sight. Today, he’s going to pursue his nostalgia, maybe he’ll find something then (though he isn’t even sure what exactly he’s looking for). Blindly he runs down a worn path through the forest opposite of where Kageyama had gone. The sunrise trickles down off the verdant leaves, the dew clings to his back. He halts when he’s found a tree with reachable branches and begins to climb.

Nonstop he climbs and climbs, until the branches are too thin to support his weight, the breeze touching his face. Shouyou admires the view from the top and he grins in greeting to the sun peeking over the horizon. Staring over the edge of the world, he spots what he’s been searching for—a taller tree, with a trunk thicker than his wingspan.

Carefully Shouyou descends. His boots barely have the time to hit the ground because he’s already running in the direction of a greater challenge, where he will start his climb all over again.

Kageyama reaches the campsite before Shouyou. When asked where he’d been, Shouyou only smiles and said he’d gone everywhere.

Kageyama smiles back.

* * *

“Okay, okay,” Shouyou leans forward, containing his chuckles. “What’s your favorite kind of bread?”

Kageyama almost chokes on his stew. “What?”

Shouyou shrugs. At dinner he decided that he’d try to ask Kageyama some random questions. So far, it had been going well and eventually Kageyama started asking right back—it’s silly mundane things, tiny habits they’re finding out over time and now getting verbal confirmation for. It’s…fun.

“You’re always making some sort of bread so…it’s kind of a part of you.” He shrugs again.

Kageyama stares down at him. Shouyou almost regrets sitting right next to him tonight because  _ damn  _ does it make him short. “Bread isn’t a personality trait, dumbass. It’s just my station in the kitchen.”

“Fine then, don’t answer my question,” Shouyou pouts. “I didn’t mean it like that anyways. Your turn.”

Kageyama sets aside his empty bowl, staring at the baby blue sky above as the shadows quickly begin to close in on their campsite. “What is your favorite part about being king?”

Shouyou opens his mouth to fire back an answer only to find that he didn’t have one at all. He didn’t  _ dislike  _ being king so why was it so difficult to find a list of things he enjoyed? People would give anything to be in his situation and if he didn’t hold firm, someone would certainly take it from him, and yet…he can’t find the right words.

Isn’t this one of the things he was trying to solve? What kind of king does he want to be? Does he want to follow through with the duty his parents bestowed upon him or find an alternate path? Can he find a balance between his needs and wants? (What  _ does  _ he want?)

“I really like the people I’ve been able to meet and be friends with,” Shouyou says slowly. “All of the people who work for me are wonderful. There are even some other rulers I enjoy getting to see—they’re all  _ so  _ cool, Kageyama. I think you’d like them. Well, some of them.”

Kageyama nods, attention completely wrapped on the fire. “Do what makes you happy.”

“I am happy,” Shouyou automatically responds. Then he tacks on more genuinely, “Especially out here.”

Humming, Kageyama props his elbows on his knees. “Okay. It’s your question now.”

Shouyou takes a deep breath. If they’re going down this kind of path, he might as well dive right into it. “Have you ever thought about your life? Like, why and how you’re here, right now, with me and stuff?”

Much to Shouyou’s surprise, Kageyama doesn’t seem taken aback by the sudden shift in conversation topic. Instead, he immediately answers. “A little, but not a lot. I don’t really see a point if there’s nothing I can do about it."

“So you don’t have any goals or anything?” Shouyou’s brows knit together.

Kageyama snorts. “I never said that. What I do with my life is up to me, no one else. I’m here because I want to be.”

Shouyou has to look away. The fire is scorching his face, the blaze spreading quickly across his cheeks. He clutches his chest a moment, air leaving his lungs empty and ready to fill with an intensity of newly familiar emotions. Suddenly, he really wants to be a king that Kageyama can be proud of.

“Yours,” Shouyou croaks.

The sky is completely dark now, stars are beginning to burst into bloom before their very eyes. The quiet is filled with crackling smoke.

“Do you think you could be happy if we lived out here forever?” Kageyama muses quietly, head tilted towards the heavens.

Shouyou is ready to cry at the delicate question. He never wants this to end, not when Kageyama is here asking him questions so genuine, bathing in starlight and fire. His heart clenches and winds so tightly around itself, Shouyou fears it will cease to function all together.

“Maybe,” Shouyou smiles softly, the only reaction he can muster. “I think there’d be people we would miss. Didn’t you say you had a sister too?”

Kageyama hums thoughtfully but gives no other indication of hearing him. Shouyou gives a weak chuckle, drawing Kageyama’s attention. Shouyou’s heartbeat flutters like butterfly wings when those molten eyes meet his. The swings are going to make his heart explode.

The fire crackles in tandem with the sudden energy between them. Their knees brush. Neither pull away. Tension coils tight in the little space separating their faces. When they had gotten so close, Shouyou isn’t sure and he  _ really  _ doesn’t care at the moment. He’s bending at the whim of whatever force drawing him closer to the person he’s watched so intently for the past month. Then, in one accord, he and Kageyama move, sealing themselves together.

Kageyama’s mouth is soft and slightly hesitant. His kiss is everything others don’t get to see past his confidence: sweet and considerate. Shouyou is on the verge of exploding.

And yet, he wants to see more. What warm and unspoken secrets can Shouyou learn if he continues to move his lips against Kageyama’s? If he tangles his hand into the barely held-together ponytail?

A hand skims across his cheeks in the gentlest of requests. Shouyou is happy to oblige, pushing even closer so their shoulders are touching, deepening their kiss.

He can’t explain the raucous need to be near Kageyama. No one other person has been able to incite such emotion from him. But the lure is demanding and intoxicating. Despite this, Shouyou would not be able to handle the embarrassment if he completely gave in, at least right now, so he pulls back gently.

The burn of Kageyama’s lips sears into his memory like the smell of the campfire they had made together. He beams. “We should probably go to sleep now.”

“Mm, probably.” Kageyama plants another slow drawn out kiss on Shouyou’s unsuspecting mouth. “Okay, let’s go.”

Damn that unbelievably adorable man. His cheeks will never survive.

Shouyou sleeps with Kageyama’s warmth at his back and a distinct smile on his tingling lips.

* * *

As with all of Shouyou’s other adventures to the woods, this one too draws to a close. Shouyou can’t tell if he’s more or less disappointed than he was as a child. The bubble that he and Kageyama created together is something he will forever long for, but it doesn’t feel right to be upset when the memories created are ones he will cherish for all of his days. It’s weird.

Just like the weirdly normal behavior between him and Kageyama that morning. He’d been a little concerned when he woke up that something drastic would consume the relationship they had. But as soon as Kageyama called him ‘dumbass’ and reprimanded him for trying to take down the tent while they were both still in it, Shouyou knew he had nothing to worry about.

Even without that worry, there is something that sparks when their hands brush or their eyes meet in a moment of intensity. The new layer doesn’t weigh on him like he expected it too—it’s the exact opposite. Shouyou has never felt lighter.

They don’t leave until noon. Kageyama doesn’t comment on how slow Shouyou is moving, only matches his pace. The journey back is filled with bittersweet silences and lazy attempts at arguments. Their feet drag in the dirt and they make frequent stops to study some “plants of interest”, as Kageyama would call them. Shouyou pretends that he’s more interested in the plants than he is in the way Kageyama’s mouth moves when talks.

The end of the forest is reached barely after sunset. Looming in the distance is his castle, his kingdom, his responsibilities as king. Shouyou sighs, glancing at Kageyama for his reaction. His face is blank.

“Well, this is it, I guess,” Shouyou says shyly. He rubs at the back of his neck. “Thanks for this, Kageyama. I…”

Kageyama’s pinky laces with Shouyou’s. His eyes watch their joined fingers briefly then meet Shouyou’s. He doesn’t need to say anything for Shouyou to understand that the feeling is mutual.

Shouyou’s gaze falls to Kageyama’s lips. He moves to capture Kageyama’s mouth one last time when a droplet of water splatters against his nose. “What the—”

Like a sudden fortissimo in a symphony, a shower from the heavens crashes to earth without any warning. They are drenched almost immediately in freezing summer rain. Shouyou squeals like a child and makes a break for it.

“Hey!”

“Hurry, hurry,” Shouyou screeches with laughter. He can hardly see where he’s going but he has a vague idea of where his castle is, so he isn’t worried.

Sneaking back in is just as easy, perhaps easier, than their escape, thanks to the cover of darkness and rain.

They finally find refuge behind the doors of the kitchen, both drenched to the bone and breathless. Kageyama reaches for a pathetic kitchen towel on a nearby table. The fabric soaks through immediately upon contact with his hair. Shouyou snorts at the sight. The attempt is futile but Shouyou finds it endearing.

Biting his lip, Shouyou takes the towel away and loosely grabs onto his wrist. “Come on.”

Kageyama doesn’t respond and Shouyou fears that he’s pushed too far. Then Kageyama’s large hand entwines with his. “Okay.”

Shouyou didn’t know he was capable of such happiness at such a simple phrase. 

Together they stumble through the polished halls like a pair of drunks. Lightning reflects in the trail of water they leave behind. They’re giggling and slipping and shushing each other like children but Shouyou is  _ so _ happy. He’s an elated schoolboy whose crush has accepted their confession, or, at least, something along those lines, he thinks. The darkness surrounding their entangled bodies doesn’t hide the smile on Kageyama’s face, Shouyou won’t let it.

They reach the safety of his room double the time it should have taken them to get there. Shouyou is very clumsy and his soaked shoes have helped none.

Kageyama shivers, teeth clattering in an awful cacophony.

“You’ll freeze to death if you keep those wet clothes on any longer,” Shouyou murmurs, still facing the closed door to his room. The implication weighs heavy in his gut. “I’ll draw you a bath.”

He stumbles into the adjacent bathroom, not daring another glance at Kageyama. He warms the water as quickly as he can, pouring it into the large metal tub as the steam flies to the ceiling. Shouyou gets so distracted watching the little puffs attempting to reach the sky, he startles when he notices Kageyama in the doorway.

Kageyama, looking stupidly handsome just standing in the entryway, shadows sharply showing how tight his wet clothes had become, blinks— _ stupidly. _ (Shouyou decides that his bath has to be considerably cooler than Kageyama’s if he has any hope of ridding the redness from his cheeks.)

“I’ll uh,” Shouyou’s voice breaks. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

He rushes to slip past Kageyama—he really needs to be far away right now, so he doesn’t do anything horrifically embarrassing—when a hand catches his bicep. “But you’re cold too.”

Shouyou’s belly lurches at the shift in tone. The rumble of Kageyama’s deep voice reverberates in the base of Shouyou’s skull.  _ Oh shit,  _ he’s in trouble. He can’t think, he can’t really breathe properly. Gaze travelling from where the hand connects with Shouyou’s arm, he traces the lines of his forearms, the slope of his throat, his jaw, the nervous spasm to his lips, and finally the seriousness in his eyes. Shouyou knows he cannot possibly say no, not when he wants so bad. “Together then?”

Kageyama nods. Shouyou’s neck pricks with white hot heat.

Piece by piece, articles of clothing drop to the floor in a wet heap. Shouyou averts his eyes out of respect but the temperate ripples on the water’s surface do nothing to hide either of them. Soon enough, Shouyou’s giggles begin anew—he can’t really help it and he hates silence. Kageyama tries to hide his chuckles behind the back of his wrist. Shouyou knows better than to fall for it.

Their laughter fades, relaxing postures entangling their legs in the large tub. Steel eyes meet amber ones, igniting kindling faster than flint ever could. Shouyou moves with false confidence, his palms plant firmly onto strong thighs, surging himself forward until he is a breath away from Kageyama’s lips. Kageyama doesn’t hesitate to meet him in the in-between.

They collide with all the grace of a meteor meeting Earth’s surface, imbalanced and rocky as they scrape jaggedly. The heat continues to glow, spreading to their wandering hands and interwoven legs. Water splashes, the planet changes its course as a tongue swipes across his lips.

The bath is soon abandoned, dry towels laying by its feet. This is where Kageyama stands and kisses his forehead, then his nose, then his mouth, with all the gentleness he possesses (which is quite a lot for someone that others might think of as cold; he is nothing but warmth, especially now in front of Shouyou like this.) Shouyou cups Kageyama’s face, runs his thumbs over the soft skin on his cheekbones, and kisses him back.

A tiny noise emits from Kageyama’s throat, muffled by their lips. The lightning strike of thrill races down Shouyou’s spine, pooling low in his stomach. Again and again he wants to drag that sound from Kageyama until he is breathless and hoarse.

In a moment of visceral transparency, Shouyou remembers the downtrodden look Kageyama wore when he grappled with his past. He’s admitted that it doesn’t matter anymore with his new life. But the primal urge to erase the harsh words that struck deep enough for them to invoke insecurity instead of change, becomes cavernous within him.

Shouyou decides to let his actions speak in ways he can never truly hope to (god, he’s bad at words) and tries to show Kageyama just how adored he is—at the very least, by Shouyou himself.

Shouyou stops holding back.

He urges them forward, lips eagerly moving in tandem with his partner’s, and after a few dizzying seconds they reach Shouyou’s bedroom once more. Kageyama stumbles as his knees hit the bed, trying to grapple at Shouyou’s shoulders for balance. Shouyou is the opposite of help, breaking their kiss so Kageyama can land flat on his back against the bed. Within an instant, Shouyou is upon him.

That night there are whispers. Small utterances shared between two magnetized spirits seeking one another. And then so much more.

He presses his mouth to Kageyama’s again, presses their chests together, presses Kageyama’s wide shoulders to the bed sheets, his tongue into his mouth. He utters poetry against gasping lips, stanzas bordering between artistic and filthy. He chants praises fervently against any bare skin he can reach. And he doesn’t stop until Kageyama is singing too—until he’s bowed and taunt underneath Shouyou.

The fault lines creased into Shouyou’s palms cause Kageyama to tremble as they travel lower and lower. He quakes when he catches sight of Shouyou’s gaze carefully picking up every fluttering expression. He intently listens to the quiet melodies slipping past Kageyama’s lips when hazy blue meets his fiery ember. Shouyou cannot help but smile, letting gravelly compliments spill from his mouth without abandon.

He brands Kageyama’s lips and thighs as a temporary reminder that will be discovered later. Dark hues splotch messily across Kageyama’s toned muscles and oh, he’s going to  _ murder _ Shouyou the next morning but the sheer beauty of the scene snaps his focus back into place.

As Shouyou moves, timing himself with the tempo of Kageyama’s shuddering breaths, he knows he’s succeeded in his goal. Large hands grip at Shouyou’s arms and grasp at the bedsheets. Inky strands of midnight tangle between Shouyou’s fingers. Their body heats mix and meld until they cannot be told apart. Shouyou leans close enough to feel Kageyama’s pants splay across his cheeks.

Shouyou’s touches alternate between gentle and rough, displaying the words he is no longer capable of uttering. Everything is bending, coiling, building, and releasing in the exact same instance. The air reeks of Shouyou’s desire to ensure Kageyama never has to think he is anything less than perfect the way he is. And Shouyou lives for the moment when he hits that spot  _ just right _ and Kageyama becomes totally pliant. The gasps, moans, and whimpers unabashedly rip from Kageyama’s throat and then silence as he basks lethargically on the pillows. Shouyou isn’t far behind.

That night they fall asleep underneath a wet comforter and on sopping pillowcases. Shouyou kisses Kageyama’s soft smile and feels a large hand slipping into his orange curls before drifting into a comforting oblivion.

_ Amidst his fall, he notices another exactly like him, wind thrashing about the two of them, and the kindred soul reaches out his hand. _

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate title from beta: poggers


	4. Denouement

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand the conclusion. I hope the ending is satisfying for all of you :D

Never has morning light been more beautiful than on the morning Shouyou wakes to see it wrap its gentle warmth around Kageyama, who is fast asleep by his side. His breathing is deep and slow—the calmest Shouyou has ever seen him. Unable to resist, Shouyou brushes the gold tinted strands away from his face and places a faint kiss against the exposed skin of his forehead.

Kageyama’s thin eyebrows pinch slightly, a low grumble building from his throat. Shouyou smiles fondly. He’ll have to tease Kageyama about that later, but for now he has no qualms with admitting he finds it cute.

Shouyou sighs. He should go find Yachi before too many people wake up to let her know he’s back…and that he’s going to have to sneak someone out of his room. That’ll be a fun conversation.

He reluctantly slips out of bed, pouting at the loss of warmth and the cool floor beneath his bare feet. In order to not freeze to death, Shouyou quickly dawns himself in his royal garb. As he dresses, many thoughts run through his mind, including a refresher of his daily schedule.

Let’s see, he’d have to talk to Yachi first, Kazuyo and Natsu will have to be relatively soon after. Maybe he could manage to take his breakfast to his room and share with Kageyama. Regardless, he’d have to fit an actual bath somewhere in his day.

He’s adjusting the crown on his head as he walks out the door…and straight into someone’s chest. “Oh, sorry! I wasn’t watching where I was go—KAZUYO HI!” Shouyou slams his door shut. He stands directly in front of the handle and smiles, perhaps a tad too wide. “What’re you doing here?”

Kazuyo gives his signature small grin, crow’s feet prominent on his wrinkled face. “I came to check on you and bring you your breakfast.” He holds up the tray in his hands as evidence. “You’ve been bedridden for several days and I became concerned. But it would seem you are feeling much better!”

Shouyou gulps. His gratefulness for such a thoughtful advisor is overridden by _oh god, Kazuyo is here and his grandson is just behind this door_ **_sleeping in my bed._ ** Internally, Shouyou is screaming. 

“That’s so kind of you, Kazuyo!” His grip on the doorknob tightens painfully. “I am feeling lots and lots and lots better now! W-why are you here so early though? I’m not usually awake at this time.”

Kazuyo chuckles. “I was actually passing through. I was going to check on my grandson as well. He’s also sick, you see. I hope whatever this illness is, it doesn’t become a problem throughout the castle.”

Shouyou would like nothing more than to pass away on the spot (but then if he does that, no one will be there to guard the door.)

“He also has a difficult time waking—he’s not a morning person,” Kazuyo remarks casually.

Shouyou snickers. “Yeah, tell me about it.” Kazuyo’s eyebrow perks up and Shouyou scrambles for any kind of explanation. “Natsu isn’t a morning person either.”

The older man laughs outright. “I’ve heard stories about that through you and my granddaughter. I’m not sure I’ve ever told you that she’s Natsu’s lady-in-waiting.”

Shouyou’s brittle expression twitches. This situation could not get any worse. “So she’s close with my sister. How interesting.”

“I know,” Kazuyo’s dark eyes sparkle with mischief. “Miwa loves her like a little sister and treats her as such.”

What is with the Kageyamas and becoming close with the Hinatas? Is this some sort of genetic thing?

“Speaking of your grandchildren, you never told me that the archery teacher you suggested to me was related to you,” Shouyou tries to grasp control of the conversation, lest his mind spin out of control with all the implications of such.

Kazuyo merely shrugs. “Ah, yes, the grandson I was just checking on. I didn’t think it was important. I didn’t lie, he’s the most talented shot I’ve ever seen and I figured that was good enough. Besides, he needs a little challenge every once in a while.”

“He’s certainly competitive.” Shouyou relaxes slightly. “But I don’t mind a good challenge either.”

“Little Tobio needed to see that. There are others who are like-minded and he’s not alone—“ Kazuyo bows slightly from the waist “—Thank you. I appreciate how your companionship with him has helped show him that.”

Shouyou’s heart squeezes too tense in his chest as he nods. “He’ll never have to worry about that again, you have my word." 

Straightening, Kazuyo beams brightly at Shouyou’s words. “I know. Thank you for humoring an old man and his ramblings about his dearest grandchildren. I’ll let you get to your breakfast but make sure to come by my office later. Your birthday is soon and we need to get some preparations sorted out.”

Shouyou gasps and takes the tray from his hands with a small apology. “Thank you for bringing this, I’m sure it’s delicious. Um…tell Kageyama I hope he feels better?” Why is Shouyou cursed to be such a horrendous liar—so bad for politics.

Kazuyo ruffles Shouyou’s hair in parting and then he’s off, gliding down the halls in a truly regal fashion. Once he’s out of sight, Shouyou slips discreetly back into his bedroom, slumping against the door once he’s finally safe.

His stomach growls as the smell of food wafts to his nose. He looks eagerly to see what he’s been served, when he notices something odd. There are two identical plates, equally filled with food. That’s when he’s also sobered with the realization that Kazuyo had walked in the opposite direction of the kitchen staff’s sleeping quarters.

The embarrassed whine Shouyou lets out is loud enough to wake Kageyama.

* * *

“Um, do you think we could just eat together today?” Shouyou really shouldn’t be as nervous to ask this as he is. Because they eat together before practice every day—have been for several months now. But that’s different than _just_ eating, taking an actual break and definitely different than having breakfast in Shouyou’s room a few days ago.

From his usual lunch spot, Kageyama’s mouth forms around words but no sound comes out for several long seconds. “You would…want that?”

“Duh, that’s why I’m asking, dummy,” Shouyou does his best to sound as nonchalant as possible. He isn’t sure how well it’s working. He shifts his weight between his feet. “I mean, this doesn’t have to be permanent but I just—”

“You’re wasting time.” Kageyama tugs him down by his shirt sleeve. “If you’re not going to practice any more then I’ll have time to make you a whole lunch instead of only bread.”

Shouyou smiles and hides his light blush behind his hand. “Will you finally teach me to do something in the kitchen? Don’t get me wrong! Staring at you for hours is nice too but you know I get antsy if I just sit.”

“You’re embarrassing. Please stop talking,” Kageyama laments to his lunch.

“It’s true though!” Shouyou rests his palm on Kageyama’s forearm with a bright, teasing grin tugging at his cheeks. “My favorite part is when you put things in the oven. Pieces of your hair fall into your eyes, you roll up your sleeves, not to mention how great your a—”

Kageyama shoves a roll into Shouyou’s mouth. _“Please_ don’t say anything else.”

Shouyou’s unrestrainable laughter comes out muffled as he shoves Kageyama in turn. He removes the bread so he can speak. “So shy all of a sudden. I don’t mind though, Blushy-yama is my third favorite.”

“Third favorite what?”

“My third favorite ‘yama!” Shouyou rolls his eyes as if it’s the simplest thing in the world to understand. Kageyama clearly does not follow this track of thinking; confusion is etched onto his face.

“What the hell are you talking about, dumbass?”

Shouyou turns so his knee rests on Kageyama’s thigh. It’s hard for him to openly explain but there are different expressions that Kageyama makes. His third favorite is Blushy-yama because he gets this scrunched up nose like he doesn't know how to handle his embarrassment, very cute. Second favorite is probably Focused-yama. His eyes get all intense as if nothing else in the world matters. And his first favorite…

Shouyou shifts forward, trying to meet Kageyama’s eyes as he internally deliberates. Yeah, his first favorite is definitely Scary-yama. That’s how his face is most of the time, and he does like Kageyama’s face—it makes Shouyou’s heart all _thutunk_ and _bwah_ even when he’s angry.

Shouyou hums. “Nothing.”

“You…” Kageyama chokes out, embarrassment lacing his voice. His eyebrow twitches and Shouyou has never seen him look so torn. He isn’t sure if Kageyama is about to strangle him or kiss him. Either way, Shouyou thinks he’s earned it. “You’re so ridiculous. Stop staring at me like that.”

“You are too!” The response is childish but it is enough to goad Kageyama into action.

Shouyou blinks and within that span, his roll is discarded and his shoulders dig into the dirt. Kageyama looms above him. “Shut up.”

“You say that a lot for someone who hasn’t really tried to shut me up themselves.”

The kiss he receives is hard, born out of petty spite. Shouyou returns it greedily.

Kageyama then spends the rest of their time together proving Shouyou’s statement false; he can hardly get a word in, though his giggles do seep through occasionally. 

Both of them leave with empty stomachs and swollen lips and Shouyou is quite satisfied with this result.

* * *

For the first time in a long while, Shouyou dreams.

He’s lying in a field of bright tiny daisies, the sun directly above his head, and the breeze in his hair. As far as the eye can see, greens, whites, and blues of various shades blur and mesh together in a beautiful harmony.

_“Are you satisfied with this?”_

The desire to turn to the voice clashes with the inability to control his body. The ground morphs like ocean waves beneath his bare feet, the blades of grass wrap in delicate tendrils around his ankle.

_“Mediocrity isn’t becoming of a king, Shouyou.”_

Shouyou is begging to break free behind the husk of his body. He wants to scream but can only stand in complete silence as the earth swallows him up to his knees. The beautiful afternoon sky slips away and all that is left is the blank oblivion. 

_“Why have you stopped trying?”_

The dirt melts into a brown ocean and Shouyou is sucked beneath the surface. He can’t see. He can’t move. He can’t _breathe._ But he hears. He hears whispers from his childhood. He hears the mocking laughter of other noble children because he’s bad at their language. He hears his parents shush him. He hears the frustration laced in his etiquette teacher’s voice when he can’t sit still. He hears every doubtful utterance and every passing piece of gossip.

All these things he’s tried so hard to push down, to forget and conform as much as he can. They’re all flooding his ear canals and airways and try as he might, there is nothing Shouyou can do to stop it.

When he wakes, his pillow is soaked with tears and sweat. The air is sticky with perspiration and gasping breaths. Shouyou doesn’t know why he is compelled to look over to the other side of his bed but with no other sense of reality to grasp onto, he obeys. It’s empty. Alone.

No one is there.

The only thing he can see is the crown that sits on the opposite bedside table and the demons that haunt it. Right. No one _should_ be there. He’s cursed with the impossible task of being perfect and it is one he must deal with on his own.

He needs to put his own desires aside to do this task.

But Shouyou doesn’t want to.

For so long he’s only known what he _doesn’t_ want.

Now all he wants is to be happy. Is he going to be able to do that if he thinks he’s failed his parents? When will he have done enough to not feel like that anymore?

Shouyou sighs and rests his forehead on his knees. He knows these questions are loaded and won’t answer themselves any time soon. For now though, he needs space. He had his time in the forest to learn how to relax but now he needs to learn how to balance that with his work. He can’t be complacent.

If he’s complacent, he’ll fail those he cares the most about.

The mental image of Kageyama’s face shadowed with a grim disappointment is enough to make his stomach turn and grip tighten around his knees.

There’s no way he could be happy if that happened.

Even though part of him protests, he knows that his break time is over.

* * *

So…Shouyou wouldn’t say he _actively_ avoids Kageyama. He simply has more to do before their lessons than normal. Those documents aren’t going to sign themselves after all. It’s been almost a week since he’s gone to see Kageyama before their practices. It’s been a week of trudging to the courtyard, bordering on late. Kageyama doesn’t comment on it and Shouyou isn’t sure if that’s worse than him being upset. 

Time no longer soars. It crawls through the muck and the mire until it barely moves at all.

Shouyou is confused. In his attempts at not becoming too lazy, he’s managed to create a day much more difficult than before. He still takes his breaks with Kageyama. He should be satisfied. Then why is he so _tired._

He’s tired of trying to be what everyone wants him to be. He is lost, casting his line into an empty stream.

He wants to do what he wants but all he’s known is suppression and working himself until his bones are hollow. He shouldn’t drag Kageyama down with him, at least not while he’s fumbling around to his path to happiness. As much as he’d rather run into Kageyama’s arms and tease and kiss him until they both turn to dust, Shouyou would feel guilty for not being totally present with him.

(But _damn_ does he miss touching Kageyama.)

Shouyou really thought everything had been sorted in his brain after the forest, but he’s returned with this…relationship with Kageyama he had never dared hope for. How is he supposed to deal with that and the possibility that other people might see it as a distraction?

He doesn’t want to put Kageyama in the position where he feels like he has to be perfect all the time again. However, he’s already let go of Kageyama as much as he could, which isn’t a lot, to be fair.

The back and forth his mind goes through on a daily basis is dizzying.

Shouyou has to be good enough, some might say he needs to be the best. He also needs to be content.

He’s starting to fear that the chances he can have both are slim.

* * *

“Shouyou-chan!”

Shouyou whips around so quickly he stumbles over his still moving feet. “Oikawa!”

Regal as ever, King Oikawa strides over to Shouyou like he has all the time in the world. Shouyou wrangles him into a brief hug before pulling back to smile at his friend. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here because _someone—”_ Oikawa pokes Shouyou’s head roughly “—invited me to their birthday ball. What, did you forget you invited me? I know I’ve been away for a while, but I’m hurt!”

Shouyou rolls his eyes which only deepens Oikawa’s pout. “I forgot I was even having a birthday. I didn’t send out the invitations.”

Oikawa drapes an arm over Shouyou’s shoulders and dramatically clutches his heart. “I knew it! You didn’t even want to invite me!”

Shouyou shrugs him off but smiles anyways. It had indeed been a while since he'd seen his fellow royal. It had almost been a year, shortly before he began his archery lessons. (God, has it really been that long?) They sent occasional letters when they could though they were few and far between. They were more the type of friends that were close when they saw each other but only occasionally sought the other out with intent. There's no pressure and Shouyou enjoys that.

“You’re always so dramatic when Iwaizumi isn’t around. Speaking of, did he come with you?”

Like a switch, Oikawa’s mood flips. Shouyou witnesses the pout transform into a smile and his cheeks color bright red in an instant. “My lovely fiancé would never let me travel alone without protection, chibi-chan. Never settle for anything less than an Iwaizumi.”

Shouyou feels like he doesn’t need ‘an Iwaizumi’ anymore. Not when he has…

“Come on! I’ve never been to your castle before. I want to see every nook and cranny.”

Shouyou laughs and motions for Oikawa to follow him. They stroll around the halls, peeking in every room upon Oikawa’s insistence. Shouyou has to literally drag him away from the staircase down to the kitchens. Shouyou swears it almost feels like he’s babysitting sometimes but it’s fun to join in with the antics every once in a while.

The two of them catch up as they go along. Oikawa mostly raves about his “beloved” Iwaizumi and the preparations for their wedding. With some prodding, Shouyou eventually tells him about his archery lessons.

“Archery? Hm, never been interested in anything like that before. Are you still up to it or did your puny arms give out already?”

Shouyou struggles to find a proper answer. “Well, my arms are fine and I shoot occasionally.”

Oikawa narrows his eyes to slits, somehow managing to seem threatening and teasing. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“…nothing?”

“You’re _such_ a bad liar. It really makes me embarrassed for you.”

Shouyou lets out a noise of frustration. Why does he always do this? “It’s not my fault. There’s nothing really to tell. I do archery every once in a while, and when I don’t, I eat lunch with Ka—my archery teacher.”

Oikawa’s thin brows shoot into his hairline. “King Hinata taking a break to eat with his archery teacher, ‘Ka.’ What a turn of events! You will invite me to the wedding—no I better be in the wedding ceremony. Though I think Yachi might fight me for it.” Oikawa begins to pout again.

Shouyou is left reeling. “What?”

“If this guy is interesting enough for you to stop eating lunch with your sister, it must be serious.”

“No! No, we…” Denying Oikawa feels wrong. He is very serious about Kageyama though they’ve never talked it over. They’ve never really had to. “…I don’t…huh?”

“You aren’t _that_ oblivious. Oh, to experience falling in love again! Hajime and I were similar. Forced together by circumstance—” Oikawa leans on the nearest wall like the dramatic bitch he is.

“You don’t know that we were—”

“—but somehow we formed a bond that can never be broken,” Oikawa continues as if Shouyou hadn’t spoken up at all.

“Okay but we’re different. We—”

“How’s it different?” Oikawa’s eyes harden. He’s done playing games and toying with him, for now.

“Because you’re engaged and me and Kageyama are…well, we’re…” Shouyou makes gestures with his hands. His friend stands unimpressed.

“You know I have no idea what you’re talking about when you do that. Regardless.”

Shouyou doesn’t respond for several moments. He ponders if he should ask one of the questions that has been plaguing him for the past week. Of all people who would understand his circumstance, it’s Oikawa. He was one of the only people who he was able to truly talk to after his parents passed away. The job of a young king isn’t unfamiliar to Oikawa, though they handle it in different ways. Shouyou decides that he isn’t going to find anyone else more qualified to give him advice. “How did you deal with expectations and your relationship with Iwaizumi?”

Oikawa shrugs. “To be honest, it wasn’t that difficult for me. So long as it won’t harm anyone else, I don’t care.”

“But what did other people think? Doesn’t image play an important role when you’re king?”

“Gossip only lasts through whispers, but my happiness was louder than it all.”

Shouyou chews on his words carefully. He doesn’t have the proper chance to process before Oikawa is speaking again. “Look, being _the_ best and being the best _you_ are two completely different things. You’re probably tired of hearing this but stop giving a shit about what other people think and just _do.”_

A surge of fondness rushes through Shouyou and he pats Oikawa’s bicep. He can’t find the proper words. “You were a great comfort to me when my parents died, I never thanked you for that.”

“No need, chibi-chan.” Oikawa winks with a charming smile. “We both got a friend out of it, didn’t we?" 

Shouyou bids his friend a brief farewell and goes straight to bed. He falls asleep as soon as he hits the pillow.

* * *

The birthday ball sneaks upon him and the next thing he knows he is swamped with preparations. Unfortunately, those preparations seep over into his lunch time with Kageyama. Which really _sucks_ to say the least.

Every day he spends missing Kageyama. He misses his face, he misses his teasing remarks, and he misses everything else. He’s never felt more fucked in his life.

Three days pass. Slowly, slowly, slowly they pass with responsibilities piling the highest they’ve ever been. And Shouyou cannot even focus on his birthday, nor his dear friend Oikawa visiting, when Kageyama isn’t with him at least a portion of it.

He spends the few minutes alone thinking of Oikawa’s words and of how he’s going to greet Kageyama the next time he sees him.

* * *

The night of the ball arrives in a torrent of sudden realism. Diplomats, nobles, and royals alike all flock to the castle for an evening of extravagant celebration. Everyone flocks honor the 25th birthday and earn a free night to show off their jewels and riches. Shouyou himself is dressed the best he has been in a while; his white suit tailors perfectly to the contours of his body, the gold embellishments and crown twinkle in the glow of the rising moon.

Shouyou wishes he weren’t dragging his feet on the way to his own birthday party but alas, here he is, wandering past the royal family portraits like a drunk who’d lost their way. He slowly draws to a stop as he comes face to face with the painting of his parents. It’s obnoxiously large and it looms over him in the dim light. Their shoulders are stiff as they stare into the distance with slight smiles gracing their lips.

Natsu looks exactly like their mother, Shouyou thinks. Their mother had less curl to her hair than Natsu though. Otherwise, she’s the spitting image. Shouyou is a combination of his parents. He gets his feature structure from his father, but the brown eyes and orange hair are solely his mother.

Shouyou gives the painting a sad smile.

He wonders if his parents would want him to feel like this on his birthday. His mother would probably be appalled, his father would try to work something out to make him feel better then refuse to take credit for it. They were hard asses a lot of the time when it came to propriety, but when it pertained to his happiness…

Shouyou’s smile fades slightly. His parents wouldn’t want him to feel like this _ever._ Because they wanted him to be the best Shouyou he can be and the best Shouyou is one that is filled with joy.

That thought sobers him up drastically and immediately.

A gust of laughter from the ballroom entrance reaches his ears and his gaze is drawn to the open doors spilling warm light into the hall. Ah, yes. He’s expected soon.

Silently he travels over to the ballroom, extravagant and glittering in the starlight. It’s a place he needs to be because he is the host. The dread in his stomach tells him otherwise.

He creeps past the doorway and peaks over the balcony to the ensuing party below him. Many people that he should know the name of swim around his vision, engrossed in their conversation and dancing. They could all be fine and wonderful people but Shouyou feels…an unfamiliar sense of uncaring. Not for who they are, but for what they think of him.

Within his searching, he catches sight of all his friends. Yachi is off in a corner giggling with some other servants, Oikawa and Iwaizumi are whirling around the dance floor like a storm, Natsu is whispering to a woman with short black hair and steely eyes, and Kazuyo is greeting guests with his gentle gracefulness.

One by one, as if they feel his gaze, they all look up towards him. A few wave, others simply smile, and all at once Shouyou is brought to tears. The ones he cares for the most are here and they are looking at him as _Shouyou, not_ a young king. No one else’s opinion in that room mattered to Shouyou anymore, only the ones who saw him. All except for one.

His heart sinks when he sifts through the crowd of servants and comes up empty. That’s when it truly hits him: Shouyou wants to be happy and so do the ones who care about him, regardless of the onlooking opinions. But it isn’t possible to be the happiest version of him without Kageyama by his side.

A ridiculous laugh bubbles from his stomach and he takes a step back from the entrance. His loved ones tilt their head in confusion, Oikawa even stops dancing. Shouyou shakes his head at them and gives them a grin that splits his face in half. And then he sprints, holding his crown to his head. His cape is fluttering behind him and the tear tracks below his eyes cool with the wind whipping into his face. He swears his feet will leave the ground in his eagerness as he lets them carry him down, down, down into the kitchens.

His mind is focused and sharp, so intent with all the words he needs to say to Kageyama that he’s concerned his chest will split open with its intensity. He’s so close he can smell the baking finger foods for the party above them and he thinks he might throw up because he wants to be _there_ already.

Then, he is.

And Kageyama stands there in all of his glory, refilling the champagne glasses on serving trays and meticulously arranging small pastries on another. He freezes when he hears Shouyou’s scuffling. He straightens his back once he’s able to see who exactly is crashing in on his lonely kitchen, his lips part and his eyes blink rapidly as if he thinks he’s imagining things.

Shouyou the stuttering of his heart weakens his knees. “Hi,” he breathes.

“Hey.” Kageyama’s voice is a whisper and Shouyou feels like he hasn’t heard such a beautiful sound in years.

“…come here often?” Kageyama’s expression sours. Shouyou chuckles nervously at the sight. Oh god, everything he planned to say has flown right out of his skull. “Right, sorry. Um…Y’know, I, uh, still don’t know why you fluff the bread.”

Shouyou is _so stupid._

Kageyama leans forward onto the table. Shouyou wills himself not to look down to his rolled-up sleeves. Now wouldn’t be an appropriate moment. “Fluff.”

“Yeah,” Shouyou squeaks out, feigning calm ignorance. “Aren’t you trying to make the loaf all light and fluffy?”

“It’s fucking _bread.”_

Okay, that tactic clearly isn’t working. He’ll have to try something else but he can’t for the life of him think of _what the hell he’s supposed to be saying._ “So, what if I…asked for cooking lessons instead of archery? Or asked you to eat a meal or two with me.”

“I still have to work,” Kageyama gestures to the dimly lit kitchen. His voice is somewhat monotone but Shouyou can see the nervous way he’s running his fingers over the grooves in the wooden table. 

“Well, when you have time off, I guess. I’ll make sure I’m there, whenever you choose.”

Kageyama’s eyes narrow and that prompts Shouyou to think that maybe he wasn’t as nonchalant about Shouyou’s disappearance as he thought. If he could, Shouyou would kick himself for being so stupid. Of course Kageyama would be offended, Shouyou would too if he were in the same position.

Bitterly, Kageyama spits out. “Fine. 3 A.M.”

“Done,” Shouyou immediately replies. 

“ _What?”_ Kageyama’s voice climbs in volume and in pitch. Disbelief colors his face and scrunches his nose.

Shouyou takes a breath and responds casually, “My schedule is wide open.”

“Your schedule is _never_ wide open, dumbass,” Kageyama says, clearly exasperated.

“It will be for you.” Kageyama says nothing, expression unchanging at his declaration aside from the blush spreading across his ears and cheeks. “Kageyama, I don’t want to just do archery with you. I like to but I also want to find something that I have that really cool passion and drive for that you have for archery. I don’t know what that is and so many things are so uncertain for me and I get so confused sometimes but…” Shouyou licks his lips, crossing the room to stand at the table with Kageyama, who turns to face him. Shouyou drapes his hand near Kageyama’s and says softly, “But I really, _really_ _want_ to stay by your side. Forever. If that’s what you want too, that is.”

A calloused hand brushes over Shouyou’s. Finger by finger Kageyama entwines their hands. They are so close their chests touch when they inhale and Shouyou itches to close the gap even further. “I would like that. More than anything.”

Shouyou’s face hurts from how forceful his sudden grin is. He uses his free hand to tug Kageyama down by his neck so their foreheads rest on one another. Kageyama’s eyes close, his other arm wrapping around Shouyou’s back as he presses a quick kiss to Shouyou’s nose. Laughter boils to the surface. Shouyou has never been more delighted in his entire life.

“So romantic, Tobio.”

“Shut up.”

But Kageyama is smiling and laughing too. Even as they both crash together into a kiss that has too much teeth because their grins are too wide. _This,_ Shouyou thinks, is the best way he could spend his birthday, or any day, really. Basking in these happy moments with the person that he has come to adore so much.

Shouyou never arrives at his own birthday party. He greets the onslaught of gossip with an innocently cheeky grin, remarking to himself in his head that they would be much more scandalized if they were to know the details of how he spent his evening after his abrupt exit.

_Surrounded by unknown variables and unsorted portions of this vast abyss, he accepts the hand that is offered to him and they entangle together, never to be parted._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!! Writing this has been an absolute blast and I am very happy I got to participate in the Kagehina gift exchange! Have a wonderful day/afternoon/evening <3
> 
> Alternate title from my beta's comments: Meeting with my lover and trying not to disappoint the haunting expectations of my dead parents at 3 AM Challenge! gone wrong *gone sexual (hopefully)*

**Author's Note:**

> Alternate title taken from my beta's comments: "ah yes. the anxiety. the pressure to do well so you destroy yourself trying to meet expectations. I See You, Hinata."


End file.
